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I tried and tried….

And came up wanting….

With the hubby at home on the mend from his double pneumonia, my time is not my own. My carefully crafted back-to-school schedule, complete with cleaning schedules, writing goals, and business ideas has flown the coup.

Now, in place of precisely scheduled work times, I find myself working around fixing meals, walk therapy, and field trips to beat back the stir crazy. My zoom meetings involve keeping one eye on the screen and one eye purposefully trained on a chair in the living room. My office is the chair opposite my husbands because the oxygen machine in the office is noisy and kicks off enough heat to make even me sweat!

Sounds like I am complaining doesn’t it? And maybe in a way I am. I am a creature of lists and schedules and habit and right now, those are in tattered shards in a pile next to my living room chair.

I find my mind overwhelmed and my thoughts scattered. I want so desperately to put words to page, but they swim before my eyes. I long to execute my business plans and grow and build, but the tasks become jumbled between the other things.

My sense of overwhelm almost chokes me at times. My lists fail me. My scheduled time falls short. Yet, the tasks continue to pile up. A fear of failure keeps crawling along my spine, longing to drag me under. Good thing I’m stubborn and do t give up easily.

Each night, as I lay beside my husband, listening to him breath, I remember those nights when he wasn’t there. Those eight terribly long, terribly lonely nights. I remember how blessed I am that his team of doctors thought outside the box and brought him home to us. As his breathing changes to one of slumber, and the hum of his oxygen machine drifts down the hall, I thank God for such a machine that helps him get what he needs. Each morning, as I try desperately not to get tangled up in his fifty foot oxygen hose on my way out of our bedroom to my treadmill, I thank God that he is home and still with us.

Life is messy and chaotic and hardly ever goes as planned, but there’s a message in the mess. It plagues my nightmares to think what I’d be doing if things had gone differently. While I may gripe because my carefully constructed days are chaotic at best, I am undeniably grateful for the blessing I’ve been given. Even if he is dragging fifty feet of oxygen hose all over my house all day.

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